1 The Arrival

 

 

Jacques had lost track of how many different solutions he had thought to build to shield himself from the sun as the cart rambled along, but now the sun was gone.  The night air cooled his burns, but didn't do him any favors for being able to see.   And by all accounts, tomorrow was likely to be just as hot.  
He took a long, measured sip of water.  They would need to refill their supply before too much longer.  This far South on the Trail tended to see long summers without much rain, but even given that this year had been exceptional.  The trees had been offering so/me respite, but they were losing the battle.
He flicked the canteen lid back and forth in his paw as his eyes unfocused into the distance.  The lid was settling back into a predictable rhythm, matching the bumps in the road.  Click - Clank.  Click- Clank.  Click - Clank. Click -
"Jacques," the husky, semi-ethereal call coming from elsewhere in the cart. "Jacques, you are going to lose that wonderful brain if all you do is sleep and stare all day."
He did love that voice.  He also didn't budge.  "This wonderful brain knows when it is beat.  I'm certainly open to suggestions."
Click.  Clank.  Click.  Clank.
She grabbed him by the chest, mock-serious.  "Well I suggest you buckle in!  We need water, and there's a small city near here that should be able to help."
He stopped Click-Clanking. "How near?"
"An extra day travel each way, tops.  I don't think we can afford to skip it."
Jacques, whose canteen was all but dry, had to agree.

***

 

"An extra day's travel" turned out to be almost four when all was said and done.  The path they were following became increasingly less clear, and more than once they needed to double back to make sure they were still on track.  At least their goal was obvious - a hulking grey cliff grew larger as they approached, the city in question in the shadow beneath.

And then came the rain.

Misty and floaty, the droplets carried through the air and sank into their burns.  

Jacques and his companion, the renowned Mrs Trufflebottom, rejoiced for the rain at first.  By the time they approached the city limits, they were soaked.  Everything was soaked.

"I take it back.  I hate this.  I'm ready for the rain to stop," Jacques called through the storm as he hopped down from the cart.  

*Whomp!*

The thick ball of mud caught Jacques completely off guard, and he caught his glasses just before they could fall.  Mrs Trufflebottom was clutching her sides, laughing for all she was worth, her long floppy ears tossing around her head.

 ***
They slept in the cart, huddled together under a mound of clothing.  It wasn't like they hadn't seen rain before, and it wasn't as if they didn't know how to keep warm.  

The sun was just hinting its presence behind the clouds, signaling morning, but the rain showed no signs of stopping.

"Jacques.  Wake up."

He grunted at her.  "Why?  We're already here, aren't we?  Let me sleep a little more."

"Because, love, you're snoring.  And that means no one else can sleep."  Mrs Trufflebottom paused as she confirmed what she had been seeing:  there was indeed someone coming toward them.  Someone *huge*.  "And I think someone else has something to say about your snoring."

"What?" Jacques stammered as he fumbled for his spectacles.  There was indeed a soggy behemoth sloshing toward them; mottled white fur with just a hint of gold reflecting from the beast's eyes.  "I apologize for my snor-"

Two massive paws gripped the side of the cart as the visitor appraised them.  He spoke loudly over the rain.  "I don't care about your snoring.  No one does.  I haven't seen you before in the Outpost.  What are you doing here?"

"We needed supplies!"  Mrs Trufflebottom called back; beginning to shed the layers she was buried under.  "Mainly water, which it looks like we found.  We were passing by and were desperate.   Can you help us?"

The face creased, hiding his eyes behind a matte of white fur.  "Water.  Well you have certainly come to the right place for that, haven't you.  Follow me."

"Not much for conversation, is he?" Jacques muttered, pulling himself to his feet.

"If you prefer to stand and chat in the rain,  you've got all the time in the world to do it."  He beckoned toward the nearby building. "It's not going anywhere.  I, however, am going inside."

 ***
Dragging themselves behind him in the storm, Jacques and Mrs. Trufflebottom scanned the nearby doors and windows for signs of life.  The town may well be abandoned.  If this...whatever...had marked them as easy prey, though, he'd bitten off quite more than he could chew.  Jacques kept his paws ready at his side, and recognized his wife as being similarly ready for a trap.

Entering across the threshold to the small dormitory was almost anticlimactic.   No trap.  No attack from their guide.  And no rain, save the sound of it hitting puddles in the road.

The giant was clearing seats for them, looking even larger in the confines of the room. He gestured for them to sit, but remained standing.

"So.  Why are you here?" he asked; watching them closely.  Jacques was reaching out to Mrs.  Trufflebottom unconsciously, while she hadn't even blinked.  He continued, "The Outpost died years ago.  There's no treasure here.  There's nothing left here.  What do you want from us?"

"Sorry, but we've never heard of the Outpost," Mrs Trufflebottom  retorted.  "Like we said, some supplies and we'll be on our way."

"Never heard of the Outpost?!"  He trailed off as his eyes unfocused.  They waited for him to continue. He didn't.   He began fidgeting with his paws, as if trying to work out this new information.   Then came the mumbles.  "The Outpost was once -  but that was before -  but the people were - and they had it all-..."

His words came out in short bursts as they finally trailed off.  He covered his face with both paws.  The drop-drop-drop of the rain was joined by a melody - the sound of soft crying.

*****